Part 46 (1/2)

CHAPTER XLIII.

The castle clock struck twelve in slow, hollow strokes. Deathlike stillness lay over the forest outside, and it was as still in the house where a corpse lay. The steward and servants had retired, as had Frau von Eschenhagen. Exhausted nature demanded its due. She had made the long, tedious journey from Burgsdorf without stop, and had lived through the hard, trying day.

Only a few windows were dimly lighted; they belonged to the rooms which had been appointed to Frau von Wallmoden and Colonel Falkenried, which lay near together, separated only by an ante-room.

Falkenried intended to accompany the widow back to the Residenz on the morrow. He had spoken with her and Regine, and had stood for a long time beside the body of his friend, who only yesterday had called to him so confidently, ”_auf wiedersehen_”--who had been so full of his projects and plans for his future and his newly acquired possessions.

Now all this had come to an end. Cold and stiff he lay upon his bier, and cold and gloomy Falkenried now stood at the window of his room.

Even this awful accident was not able to shake his stony composure, for he had long ago forgotten to consider death a misfortune. _Life_ was hard--but not death.

He looked silently out into the winter night and he, too, saw the ghostly glimmer which lighted the darkness out there. Dark-red it now glowed upon the distant horizon, and the whole of the northern sky seemed penetrated by invisible flames.

Redlike, as through a purple veil, twinkled the stars. Now a few distant rays shot up, growing more numerous, and rising always higher to the zenith.

Beneath this flaming sky the snow-covered world lay cold and white. The aurora was s.h.i.+ning in the fulness of its splendor!

Falkenried was so lost in the glory of the sight that he did not hear the opening and closing of the door of the ante-room. Carefully the partly closed door of his own room was now opened, but the one entering did not bring himself into view, but remained motionless upon the threshold.

Colonel Falkenried still stood at the window half-averted, but the flickering light of the candles which burned upon the table lighted his face distinctly; the strong, deep lines of the features, and the gloomy, careworn brow beneath the white hair.

Hartmut s.h.i.+vered involuntarily; he had not antic.i.p.ated such a deep and awful change. The man standing in his prime, looked aged, and who had brought this premature age upon him?

A few moments pa.s.sed in this deep silence, then a voice vibrated through the room half-audible, beseeching, and full of a tenderness suppressed with difficulty--a single word pregnant with meaning.

”Father!”

Falkenried started as if a spirit voice had reached his ear. Slowly he turned as if really believing he heard a spirit-haunting voice.

Hartmut quickly approached a few steps, then stood still.

”Father, it is I--I come----”

He stopped short, for now he met his father's eyes; those eyes which he had feared so much, and what they now expressed robbed him of the courage to speak further. He bowed his head in silence.

Every drop of blood seemed to have left the face of Colonel Falkenried.

He had not known--he had no idea that his son was under the same roof with him; the meeting found him totally unprepared, but it did not tear from him one exclamation, nor sign of anger or weakness. Rigid and mute he stood there and looked upon him who had once been his all. At last he raised his hand and pointed to the door.

”Go!”

”Father, listen to me----”

”Go, I say.” The command now sounded threatening.

”No, I shall not go!” cried Hartmut pa.s.sionately. ”I know that reconciliation with you depends upon this hour. I have offended you--how deeply and seriously I feel only now--but I was a boy of seventeen, and it was my mother whom I followed. Think of that, father, and pardon me--grant pardon to your son.”

”You are the son of the woman whose name you bear--not mine!” said the Colonel with cutting scorn. ”A Falkenried has no son without honor.”

Hartmut was about to burst forth at this awful word; the blood rose hot and wild to his brow, but he looked upon that other brow beneath the hair bleached like snow, and with superhuman effort controlled himself.

The two believed themselves alone during this interview in the stillness of the night--surely everything was sleeping in the castle.